Rebeca Pak. Terriccio Universale
Rebeca Pak and Gabriella Rebello Kolandra in conversation

GK
Could you tell us about Terriccio Universale?

RP
Terriccio Universale is a series of actions that began in 2019, with its first activation in the city of Milan. It was then presented in Rome, as part of an event related to the exhibition La strada: dove si crea il mondo at MAXXI, and later in Šiluva, Lithuania, where in 2021 it was commissioned and presented at the 2nd Šiluva Art Biennial.
The action consists of asking for help to transport a pre-packaged bag of soil – the so-called “terriccio universale” – from point A to point B, following a path that changes depending on the city. In each context, the work takes on different forms, following rhythms and unscripted responses dictated by passersby. I am interested in what unfolds in each encounter along the way: the unexpected, and the shifting of roles between the one who asks and the one who responds.
The happening originates from the idea of soil as a place of origin, belonging, and identity. It’s a theme that is intimate for me, connected to a family episode: my grandfather’s return from Brazil, where he emigrated in the 1960s, to visit the grave of his parents in Korea. In Korean funerary tradition, the burial mound is made of earth, stones, branches, leaves – organic matter that takes shape on site. This act of building is never individual but always part of a collective process: during the funeral, tasks and roles are shared, and what emerges is a moment of community.

GK
In your work, the body is often employed as a medium of inquiry, brought into relation with the urban and architectural dimensions of the spaces it inhabits. I see that at the core of your practice lies a personal, ongoing, and exhaustive investigation. Your identity, shaped by your Brazilian heritage, Korean roots, and long-term stay in Italy, constitutes a central concern in your work. Could you speak about how you approach the construction of identity?

RP
I believe that as human beings we have always tended to name and define what surrounds us – people, objects, situations – almost as a way of not being left “in the dark” in the face of the unknown. In this process, we create categories and, consequently, boundaries. Yet such boundaries are often imposed on the other, who ends up internalising them and recognising them as their own. I think, for instance, of fetishisation or racist microaggressions: these are themes that often recur in the work of other artists with diasporic backgrounds as well. When I speak of identity “in transit”, I am referring to a state that is, by its very nature, always in motion: depending on the circumstances, the moment, or the specific context, certain aspects of identity are continually renegotiated.

GK
The term “universal” carries with it an idea of homogeneity and, according to Édouard Glissant, tends to impose a single cultural model, flattening or erasing differences. To counter this vision, Glissant proposes the concept of “tout-monde”, aligned with his notion of relation: every culture is partial, situated, and its richness lies in intertwining with others without being reduced to a common denominator. Relation, in Glissant’s thought, acknowledges plurality, opacity, and irreducible difference. By entrusting the soil bag to passersby, you introduce trust and vulnerability into the work. To what extent does this gesture relate to Glissant’s thinking?

RP
Beyond trust and vulnerability, I believe it is primarily about the desire to start a dialogue, to take a first step into the unknown, which is the other. In this process, trust and vulnerability inevitably become intrinsic. Here, the soil begins as a representation of origins, the materialisation of relationships branching across time and space. Asking a stranger to carry it is asking them to assume that weight, to accept the invitation to an encounter, to mutual recognition. At the same time, the very title of the work carries a connotation tied to the land, to the possession of a piece of soil, and to the exploitations of which that land has historically been witness. If viewed from a Western perspective, however, the term “universal” bears a kind of false harmony, as if universality had truly reached everyone, evenly and without friction. Terriccio universale… in a sense, the title is ironic, isn’t it? This act of universalising is rooted in the thinking of empire, in which generalisation serves to avoid and often erase conflict.
In contrast to this logic of the “universal,” during the Terriccio Universale happening Terriccio Universale, encounters with the other give rise to moments of ambiguity and continual renegotiation – of reciprocity and difference – that resonate more with Glissant’s idea of tout-monde, seen as “a dimension of (dreamed) total freedom in relations, traced within the very chaos of encounters.”

GK
Another theoretical reference you bring in is the 1997 essay Anne Dufourmantelle invite Jacques Derrida à répondre de l’hospitalité, which develops around the concept of hospitality. According to Derrida, the act of welcoming always implies a power of decision, and thus also the possibility of exclusion. Hence, hospitality becomes a horizon that shapes politics, relations, and even language. Could you describe how this idea informs your work?

RP
I am very drawn to Derrida’s reflections in this text. He dwells on the polysemy of the word hôte, which in French – just like “ospite” in Italian – means both the one who welcomes and the one who is welcomed. Already in this linguistic play, a whole world opens up to rethink the complexity of any dynamic that involves at least two individuals and that inevitably reflects relations of power. A hotê exists only if another hotê exists, both in the position of who welcomes and who is welcomed.
During the action, the passing of the soil bag transforms the relationship between host and guest into a vertiginous exchange of roles: in asking a passerby to help me carry the bag of soil, I place myself in a condition of vulnerability, dependent on their acceptance or refusal. Once the other accepts the load in their hands, the roles are reversed and the unease shifts to the passerby, while I remain in a more distanced position of observation.
I am also very interested in the dialogue emerging from the curatorial framework you proposed: at Teatro Oficina in São Paulo, positions and gazes are constantly overturned between spectator and participant. Both in a play at the Teatro and in the Terriccio Universale happening Terriccio Universale, an encounter arises between what is real and what is staged, between life and “theatre” (though I believe theatre exists right at that threshold between the real and the fictive). The involvement in the event brings with it an ambiguous charge: is the request to carry the soil real? Or is it constructed?

GK
It’s interesting to think that one of the starting points for this year’s Platea programme is precisely Lina Bo Bardi’s Teatro Oficina in São Paulo, the city where you were born. There, the theatre served as a basis for imagining a new relationship between the showcase and the urban space. The work of Margherita Moscardini, the artist who inaugurated the programme, remains as a permanent element in Platea: a staircase-sculpture that marks and transforms the space, open 24/7, challenging those who come after to confront it. Within this framework, what was your experience of activating the work in the city of Lodi?

RP
It was quite surprising. I thought that in a smaller city it would take less time and that more people would participate. Out of the 22 people I approached, 18 said “no” and 4 said “yes”. To be even clearer about what this means: more than 80% refused to help. At the same time, it was the only city where someone offered to hold the bag even before I asked.